Reminder: This is the fourth and final installment in a quadrilogy. If you haven't read the other Books in this series, please click the link to my profile, read the prior three stories, and then come back. Don't worry, I'll wait. Book One is Search for the Azure Princess, Book Two is Rescue from the Outlands, and Book Three is To Capture a Butterfly. I'm serious, if you haven't read or don't remember those books, you really want to go do that right now, or else you'll be incredibly confused.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear Reader, to Book Four. Did you miss me? I am so very, very sorry that it took me so long to rewrite this book. It's all Dafydd's fault, because he is a stubborn, ridiculous Outlander who cannot be trusted. However, the entire story is finally written and completed, and barring a potential tiny edit or small scene addition here or there, the only thing that should prevent me from actually updating regularly is real life scheduling conflicts for myself or my beta.

As I've said three times already, I apologize profusely for any character mangling that occurs due to my own laziness, failure to research, or lack of foresight. Character mangling that happens due to the plot [and as I hope you've realized by now, there is an obscene amount of that], I make no apologies for. However, as I keep promising, I will eventually fix everything I've broken [except the character deaths, I can't do much about those]. And hey, since this is the last Book in the series, you get the satisfaction of knowing that I really do have to start fixing everything!

Overall Warning: While I've managed to (barely) avoid needing to rate this Book M, there will be semi-frequent instances of violence, spousal neglect and abuse, drug addiction, Madness (lots of Madness), sexual content, gore, and character deaths. As in plural, multiple occasions of death. If you start feeling like I'm trying to kill everybody off… Well, okay, I don't actually have much of a defense except to say that there will be people left alive at the end, which makes me better than Shakespeare and the Greeks.

I will do my level best to provide chapter-specific warnings where appropriate, as I don't want to accidentally trigger anyone.

Chapter-Specific Warning: In this chapter there is referenced and portrayed drug use (in the form of Emotion Tea). There are also two scenes of a sexual nature, wherein one of the participants is not sober (or sane) and thus is unable to give true, informed consent to the proceedings. One of these scenes is, at best, dub-con given under duress and coercion. Nothing is shown in graphic detail, but please proceed with caution if you have any trigger or squick issues.

Images: Remove all spaces.

Reminder on what Regina's wearing: cdn. thebargainingbride wp- content/ uploads/ 2011/ 01/ red- wedding- dresses. jpg

Original Character Face Claims: Just to refresh your memory. Since there are at this point a hell of a lot of OCs.

Regina Hightopp: Evanna Lynch (with ginger curls and green eyes)
Dafydd Hightopp: Kellan Lutz (a la the Twilight series, and blue eyes)
Jack Heart: Philip Winchester (a la the SyFy Alice miniseries)
Lily Adamas: Zooey Deschanel
Ioan Hightopp: Rufus Sewell
Mary Contrary: Emma Stone
Rhys Hightopp: Steven Strait
Afanen Hightopp: Nikki Reed (a la the Twilight series)
Gregan Hightopp: Jake Lloyd
Gwynyth Hightopp: Helen Mirren
Clover: Isla Fisher
Azalea: Meryl Streep

Disclaimer: This should be obvious because I've been saying it since the beginning, so I'm only going to make this overall disclaimer once [any disclaimers in future chapters will cover specific details]. If you recognize it, I don't own it. This refers to material from either of the Disney movies, the SyFy miniseries, any books, or fanfictions. Everything except my own characters is owned by Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton, the Disney Corporation, and SyFy. If you think you've seen it in another fanfiction, I truly do apologize; I don't mean to steal any other author's idea, and if I did it was purely unintentional and coincidental. However, if you do know of other stories with similar ideas,please tell me so I can give credit.

Special Thanks: As always, thanks to my fantastic beta Ranguvar27 for the great work.

It was a beautiful night for a ball.

Winter had come with a vengeance to the northern country of Crims. The temperature had dropped, the winds had begun biting, and tonight the first snow of the season was falling; the big, fluffy snowflakes that make the land look enchanted.

It was the Hightopp holiday of Hogmanay, and the twenty-first birthday of the Hightopp-born Queen of Crims. But more importantly, tonight's ball celebrated the Blessing of their Majesties the King and Queen of Hearts.

Inside the glass and gold fairy tale castle of Isla Affalin, everything was aglow. The vast ballroom twinkled with candlelight and the gleam of the bejeweled finery of the Nobles of the Heart Court. Shining brightest of all were the golden, ruby-studded crowns of the King and Queen.

King Jacoby of the Elder Branch of Praecordia was engaged in dancing a tarantella with his mother-in-law, Queen Alice Clava. The Blue Queen of Witzend, like many of the Nobles of Crims, was garbed in white; a token of mourning to mark the recent deaths of Mirana the White of Marmoreal, High Queen of Underland, of Kalen her King, and of Leferidae, the Duke of Tenniel and Red Lion of Underland. The subdued white of the assembled peerage served as a perfect backdrop to showcase the stain of color that was the bride.

Queen Regina Miraget Hightopp-Clava of the Younger Branch of Praecordia's wedding gown was a dark blood red, in keeping with her status as Queen of Hearts. The corseted bodice was tied within an inch of its life, and the full skirt was a chaotic explosion of ruffles. The dark red of the dress, coupled with the heavy gold and ruby jewelry, was meant to emphasize Regina's position as a strong, powerful Queen. Instead, the costume highlighted how pale and frail she was, and how much she had deteriorated in the last three months.

Regina flitted through the ballroom like a butterfly, stopping to chat with a Noble here, to charmingly demand a dance there. She looked almost normal; one could almost be tempted to believe that the Queen was perfectly well.

Unless or until one looked Her Majesty in the eyes, or heard her speak.

Once upon a time, Regina's eyes, slightly too large for her face, had been leaf green and flecked with gold. That was before she fell victim to the Madness that was the curse of her Hightopp ancestors. Now, Regina's eyes burned a sickly topaz, and were surrounded by dark, bruise-like shadows. Very often, they would be glazed over with either the wintery sheen of the Chill, or the dull fog of the Emotion Tea she secretly drank in alarming quantities in an attempt to keep her equilibrium. Her speech was similiarly affected. In Madness, her formerly sweet voice had slipped into the harsh Outlandish brogue of her ancestors, an accent that grew thicker the more agitated she was.

The ball tonight represented a momentous change for Crims. With Regina so severely incapacitated by her Madness, it would fall to her new husband Jacoby to rule in her stead as King Regent. This highly unusual arrangement was further complicated by the fact that Jacoby was the last scion of Iracebeth, the Bloody Red Queen who had been deposed by Alice the Champion over thirty years prior. Quite apart from the awkwardness of the fact that Regina's mother had defeated Jacoby's, there was great concern that Jacoby might prove to be very much like his mother, and plunge Crims back into insanity.

Still, there was nothing for it. The Vows had been spoken; Jacoby and Regina were Bonded, Bound and Blessed. They were husband and wife, King and Queen, until the day Death parted them.

In the depths of her mind, where Regina dwelt— trapped by the Madness, but not herself Mad— she wondered if that Day might not be coming sooner rather than later.

She loved Jack; at least, she had thought she might, once. She still believed he could become something magnificent, achieve amazing things for Crims. But it seemed quite plain that Jack did not love her; at least, not enough to help her cure her Madness. Jack's status as Regent looked more permanent by the hour. He was effecting new laws and policy changes more quickly than she could keep up. Jack hardly ever came to visit Regina in the Northern tower, where he'd moved her after the Madness took hold; instead, all his free time was spent with his mistress Afanen— ironically, the former lover of Regina's own Beloved, Dafydd.

At the thought of her former Champion, Regina's heart gave a great lurch. Oh, Dafydd…

He had not been present this evening, when the announcement of the Blessing had been made. Regina knew she shouldn't be surprised. Dafydd was at his southern estate, Annwyn, and had been since he was poisoned at the Suitors' Joust almost thirteen weeks prior. He could have no way of knowing what would happen today. But that didn't matter to her Madness. As far as It was concerned, Dafydd was her Champion, and he was supposed to save her. Wasn't that what Prince Charmings and knights in shining armor atop charging steeds did? They were meant to rescue their lady fair from danger, and carry her into their happily ever after. But Dafydd had failed in his quest, and now Regina was trapped. She could never marry Dafydd now; Blessing Vows lasted for life. She and Jack were husband and wife until one of them died. She would never be Dafydd's, because she was Bound to Jack. She would never be Duchess of Annwyn; she was the Red Queen of Hearts.

She squeezed her eyes tight against the tears that gathered, hugging herself as the first Chill raced up her spine and made her break out in gooseflesh. Fates, she couldn't do this; she couldn't hide deep enough in her mind to escape. Her Madness gave her perfect clarity; she knew everything she said and did, and her every move in Madness was geared towards survival. There was nowhere to run from this knowledge, and oh, she was afraid; terrified of the life she was doomed to live.

What had happened to Afanen's honeyed mead, she wondered desolately. She'd felt so warm after drinking that brew, so confident. Why could she not sustain that feeling? She wanted to be confident that she could manage Jack and work with him to save Crims. She hated feeling this small and afraid.

Rubbing her Chilled arms, Regina abruptly walked out of the ballroom with muscles gone stiff from the Cold, wandering out onto the snow-dusted balcony. Maybe if she shocked herself with cold, it would shock her out of the Chill? Even if it didn't, it was dark out here, and quiet. All the bright golden glittering inside hurt her eyes.

She tilted her head back, staring at the night sky. The clouds had parted a little; enough to see the stars twinkling overhead. Some in Underland believed that each star was the soul of a deceased loved one. If that was true, Regina's foster family was up there, and all the Kingsleighs and Hightopps she'd never gotten to meet. Were they up there? Were they watching her? And if so, did they approve of what she'd done?

"Dornt judge me," she softly begged her ancestors. "Aam sure Ah hae a plan."

A muted thump distracted Regina from her musings. Looking around, she turned towards the shadowy corner she thought the sound had come from.

"Hullo?" she called.

She stared, perplexed, at the gently swinging rope ladder that hung against the wall. How odd; she didn't remember ordering rope ladders as part of the design of her palace. Was this another of Jack's changes? It seemed quite silly to her, but perhaps that was the point— a bit of silliness to alleviate the gravity of ruling?

She craned her head back, peering into the darkness. If she wasn't mistaken, the rope ladder originated on Jack's balcony, the one outside his bedroom— their bedroom, now. Regina felt her pale cheeks on fire with hot blood. She had seen nude statues and paintings, and there had been that illustrated magazine Mary Ascot had showed her when they were girls in the Aboveground before their governess had snatched it away… But in terms of marital relations, Regina's knowledge was very vague. Tonight was her wedding night, but she wasn't entirely certain what that entailed. Surely Jack knew? From what she understood, men learned these things quite a lot earlier than women. Would he know, and take care of her?

What would this night have been like with Dafydd, she wondered (oh heavens, she could feel her blush deepening!). She'd heard the giggles of her clanswomen; if even half the stories were true, she would have been a lucky woman, indeed. She winced, that thought sending a lance of white-hot pain straight through her. She had to stop thinking about her Beloved, it was too painful.

Was she meant to climb up the ladder to Jack, then? She didn't know all of the Underlandian wedding customs; she'd been too busy trying to get out of the marriage to research what would happen at the wedding.

Or suppose that instead of Jack, the ladder led to thieves, or kidnappers? She did have rotten luck on her birthdays; what if the ladder led to more trouble? Then again, if it lead to trouble, that meant it lead away from being trapped in her marriage…

Decision made, Regina grasped the ladder and began to climb. It wasn't easy; her dress was heavy and threw her off-balance, and her fingers were so numbed by cold and Chill that she was half certain she was about to plummet to her death. But still she climbed, grateful everyone was in the ballroom so there was no one to witness her monkeying up the ladder.

Risking a glance up, Regina saw a shadowed figure waiting for her on the balcony. Oh perfect, she thought grumpily, kidnappers after all. Still, there was no avoiding it. Whoever this was, they had seen her on the ladder, and would just follow her if she tried to climb down and elude them. No, she was trapped. It was a very good thing she had experience dealing with kidnappers.

As she reached the balcony railing, the hooded figure extended a hand to help her up. Well, if it was kidnappers again, at least they were polite this time.

Somehow, within the blink of an eye, she was pulled into a fervent embrace, and her Beloved was busily kissing her senseless. She gasped, rocking onto her tiptoes and meeting his urgency with her own, clinging to his shoulders to keep herself upright. By the Crowns, she hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted this until it had happened-!

It felt almost like Madness, she thought dazedly as she found herself pressed against the cold glass wall. She was lost in a daze, trapped in a fog; she couldn't be sure anything was real, apart from him. But if this was Madness, she would happily surrender to it, if only Dafydd didn't let go.

She wondered, in a remote corner of her brain that had somehow managed not to be consumed by him (she should Have Words with that part of herself; couldn't it see how utterly lovely it was to be held in thrall by him?), if she should feel ashamed of herself for what she was doing. In the Above, it was scandalous, improper, and decidedly bad ton to sneak away with a man and allow him to take such liberties. To allow this from a man who wasn't even her husband was even worse. Should she be shamed for acting the harlot?

Then his arms tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer. Oh, hang the ton, she thought rebelliously. Who cared what they thought, when she needed Dafydd's kiss so very much? Besides, she wasn't of the ton anymore; she was a Queen of Underland. And anyways, this was the only way to ease the ache that threatened to rip her apart…

He groaned, feeling he would never have her close enough, helpless to keep from kissing her. He knew they were playing with fire; if they were discovered, Regina would lose everything before she'd even gotten a chance to fight for it. But he could feel Crims Itself humming in approval of their union, could feel the Heart concealing them in a blanket of concealment and privacy. With the land Itself egging him on, he simply didn't have the willpower to tear his mouth from Regina's. He'd wanted this for so very long; he needed just one more kiss… just one more… perhaps one last, final… oh Fates, who was he kidding?

She pressed against him, shifting restlessly. Heavens, she hardly knew what she was yearning for; she was terribly thankful that Dafydd seemed to understand without needing to ask. He groaned at her inarticulate little sound, putting his hands on her shoulders and forcibly ripping himself away from her before he forgot himself and took her right here against the wall. Gently pushing away, he staggered backwards until his back hit the balcony railing. He slumped against the balustrade, panting, transfixed on the sight of Regina's disheveled curls, her red and swollen lips, the high color in her cheeks and her over-bright, enormous eyes. The knowledge that he'd done that to her sparked a fierce and healthy dose of possessive pride deep in his gut; let Jack try to lay claim to what belonged to him!

She tilted her head back, needing to see his face, to assure herself that he was really there and that she wasn't dreaming. She and her mathair did have that regrettable tendency to confuse dreams with reality… When she focused on him, though, she frowned.

"Ye hae hair," she blurted out, blinking in confusion.

For as long as she'd known him, Dafydd had been clean-shaven, and worn his hair cropped extremely closely to his head. She'd heard Dafydd's mother Gwynyth, his sister-in-law Briallen, and occasionally even Afanen bemoan the loss of his curly hair and badgering him to grow it out again. But he had always resisted, saying that his closely shaved hair was more appropriate for a soldier. Now, after a little over three months away from Court, Dafydd's hair had begun to grow out, falling in his eyes and flirting with his neck in wavy locks, and his strong jaw now sported the beginnings of a beard. While not as blond as his brother Niall had been, his hair was sandy brown, contrasting beautifully with his blue eyes.

An amused grin quirked his lips. "Three months of separation, and that's all you can say? I have hair?"
She sniffed, wiping away her tears with an impatient hand. "It was either 'at, ur yell at ye fur hoo lang yoo've bin gone."
Dafydd winced. "I have no desire to be on the wrong side of your temper. You're terrifying when you're angry," he said, attempting a joke before smiling soothingly and crossing back to her. "What's wrong, cariad?"

Wrong? Oh yes, there was something wrong, wasn't there? Funny, it was hard to focus when his fingers were stroking her spine like that. She could feel his touch burning through her clothes, and it sent such a curious sensation through her; molten heat and shivery chills that met and pooled low in her belly. It was quite distracting… and utterly wonderful.

"Ye waur reit," she said breathlessly, clinging to him. "Ah shoods hae listened tae ye. Ah ne'er shoods hae agreed tae 'at glaikit Joost."

He was there in an instant, cradling her against his solid chest. Even as she clung to him, she shivered; she could feel every plane and curve of his body intimately pressed against hers. How had she never noticed before? She was well aware of how attractive her Betrothed was, and she knew how other women desired him. Fates, she'd been jealous of the teasing attention he'd paid to other women before they'd declared themselves. How could she not have noticed him like this, in the way a woman notices a man?

"It doesn't matter," Dafydd said, threading his fingers through her hair and not caring one jot that he was ruining her coiffure. "We're together now, and I'm taking you away from here. We have to preserve your birthday tradition," he added with a dark smile.
Regina shook her head, whimpering as her eyes filled with tears. "Ah cannae," she whispered. "Ah cannae rin awa' frae Blessin' Vows."
Dafydd stilled. "What?"

Sniffling, Regina held up her left hand, showing him the heavy gold and blood ruby ring Jack had placed on her finger.

"We said th' Blessin' Vows thes efternuin," she said dully. "Aam merrit."

Slowly, clumsily, Dafydd released Regina, staggering backwards as he tried to comprehend. Married. She was married? Jack had succeeded in stealing her from him?

"I thought you were going to break the Betrothal," he said blankly.

He watched as Regina frowned, shaking her head as if to clear it. His broken heart lurched in his chest; she looked so lost, so confused. For a moment, her eyes cleared, green breaking through the topaz, but they reverted back just as quickly.

"Ah dornt… Ah had tae…" she muttered, rubbing her temples. "But he'll be a guid Kin', willnae he? Much better job than Ah've dain… His clockwork's tickin' properly, nae crumbs in his butter… I've got tint in th' Caucus Race again…"

A sharp stab of pain made Dafydd grunt and cling to the balcony railing as he went lightheaded and saw stars. He clutched his throbbing left shoulder, not needing to see the faint pinpricks of moisture he felt on his palm to know what was happening.

They had lost each other again, and now he was nearly out of Time.

"Whit can we dae, Dai?" Regina asked, wrapping her arms around herself as a wave of goosebumps broke out over her flesh.

He stared back at her helplessly. What could be done? Blessing Vows were unbreakable. Even if Dafydd stole Regina away, they could never wed. Any hope of a happy ending, of a family, was gone now. Another stabbing pain pierced Dafydd as he thought of that little baby. His son, his and Regina's child… Zhithene had promised him a son, a Prince of the Promise, but how could that ever happen now? Not only had Jack taken Dafydd's wife, but his son as well…

They stared at each other, stricken, bound in the grief of all that had been taken from them. Before either was aware they had moved, they met in the middle in a fierce, desperate, silent goodbye.

Dafydd frowned as he deepened the kiss. Something wasn't right. Regina was a complete innocent, shy and yielding; she was never as forceful and dominant as she was being now. Not that he minded her taking charge; it was just… different.

Moreover, he knew how his Gia tasted; tea and honey and blue skies and Madness. This taste was wrong. He knew she had been nearly poisoned with Emotion Teas, but he knew this taste; this was summer and bonfires, shadows and wine…

He wrenched his mouth from hers, the half-forgotten tingling of his lips and tongue confirming what he already knew to be true.

"You've been drugged," he bit out, holding her at arms' length.

He was going to kill Afanen with his bare hands.

Lily had told him that Regina was being fed Tea, but she had only mentioned Doubt. Not this; not Lust. He still remembered the taste of Lust Tea; Afanen had honed her brewing skills on him. They had been wild and experimental when they were young; they'd joked that they could never tell when he was hopped up on Tea, because he'd always been so hot for her…

And Afanen had used her poison on Regina.

He was going to destroy her.

Something dark stirred behind Regina's eyes, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. "Ah needed it," she said, her voice low. "It helps."

If ever there was a thought he never wanted to think, it was of Regina lusting after Jack.

Before he could get angry, though, he was distracted by Regina's fingers sliding up and down his forearms. Snapping from his daze, he found her looking up at him from under her lashes. Warning alarms blared in his head; he knew that Look, knew the effects of this Tea. This wasn't good…

He could feel the Lust beginning to affect him; he remembered this hazy frenzy, the ever-building need. But he'd never felt it this intensely before; this ache was enough to kill him.

He tried to step away, knowing he needed distance from her before the Lust— or his own lust— drove him too far.

"Gia," he started, his voice a warning.

But Regina's next words stopped him cold, while simultaneously setting him aflame.

"It's mah weddin' nicht," she shook her, leaning into his chest. "But Ah shooldnae be sharin' it wi' Jack."

It took him a moment to process what she'd said. And when he had, his brain stuttered to a halt.

"It shoods be uir nicht," Regina said, her voice unfairly husky as her fingers danced up his arms. "Yoo're th' husband ay mah heart, nae Jack."

Oh, it was hard; so very hard not to attack her right there. He'd wanted her for so long, and here she was offering herself up to him… And yet he paused. He couldn't be certain if this was Regina or the Tea talking, and as much as he wanted her (and he had very hard evidence that he did), he couldn't countenance taking advantage of her when she was drugged.

"Gia, I-" he tried helplessly, only for her to silence him again.
"Dornt we deserve thes?" she asked. "Th' whole Coort believes us lovers anyways, wa nae benefit frae it, jist ance?"

She looked up at him, and through the haze of Madness and the glaze of Tea, he saw a wellspring of real emotions— regret, sadness, and pain foremost among them.

"We've tint everythin' else, Dai. Cannae we tak' thes fur ourselves, jist fur tonecht?"

Well… brimini. They had lost everything; the Court did believe them to be lovers. Moral quandaries aside, didn't they deserve just one night together?

"Alright, ma taavi," he said quietly. "If you're sure."
"Ah am sure," she nodded. "Ah loove ye."

Boldly, she took his hand and led him to the bed, which had been prepared for the royal consummation with candles and rose petals. While enraged with the knowledge that this had all been prepared with Jack in mind, Dafydd did appreciate that someone (probably Clover and Azalea) had remembered that Regina was a romantic.

"Shoods we blaw it th' candles?" Regina asked, threading her fingers together nervously.
"No," he negated, cradling her face between his hands. "I want to see you."

She bit her lip, smiling shyly. Weirdly, he was glad to see her nerves; in a strange way it affirmed that Regina was choosing this, not the Tea (or at least, not just the Tea). If it had only been the Lust, she would have been ripping his clothes off by now. He caressed her face, smiling at her reassuringly as he removed her crown and the heavy jewelry she was wearing. He turned back to her, drawing her back into his arms as he sat them down, caressing her arms and back. He waited until he felt her beginning to relax before he leaned down to kiss her; hopefully the kiss would keep her calm, as well as delaying his own selfish needs.

Well, he decided, if he was damning himself, he might as well do it thoroughly. He didn't know where their Ring was, but he didn't have time to look for it now. In any case, it didn't matter; Vows in Underland didn't require Rings to make them official.

"Blood of my veins," he said softly, twining his fingers with hers. "Air of my lungs. Seed of my body. Fire of my heart. All that I am, I put into your keeping. I bind myself to you, from now until Death parts us."

He smiled at her sadly, knowing the words of the Hightopp Joining Rite didn't mean much. They could never be truly Blessed, not when she belonged to Jack. But he had been Bound to her for years already; no harm in finally saying the words that might once have made them husband and wife in truth.

Regina opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled choking sound. Swallowing, she tried again, with the same result.

"Ah cannae spick th' Vows back tae ye," she said sadly, her eyes sparkling with tears.
"I know, cariad," he soothed her, cradling her face. "It's not important."

She shook her head, frowning in frustration. A moment later her face cleared, and she grinned mischievously.

"Ah, Regina, tak' thee Dafydd tae be mah wedded husband," she said, drawing nearer to him. "Tae hae ain tae hauld, frae thes day forward, fur bettur fur worse, fur richer fur poorer, in sickness an' in health, tae love, cherish, an' tae obey, till death us dae part, accordin' tae God's holy ordinance; an' theretae Ah gife thee mah troth."
Dafydd frowned in confusion. "I thought you couldn't-?"
"Underandian vows," Regina cut in, grinning at her cleverness. "Underlain cannae say anythin' abit Vows ay th' Abovegroond."
A slow smile grew over his face as he realized what that meant. "My wife," he breathed in wonder.
"Hello, husband," Regina giggled, her topaz irises greening a little. "Ur ye plannin' tae make thes official onytime suin?"

Grinning, he swooped in to crash his lips on hers. Fates, his wife. It didn't matter if no one else ever knew the truth; they were married. Bound for the rest of their lives, and Jack could do nothing about it.

And it was their wedding night. They had quite a lot to celebrate…

"I love you," he whispered.
"Ah love ye, ma taavi," she returned, weakly winding her arms around him. "Sae much."

They collapsed in a heap onto the mattress, breathless and shaking. He pressed kisses everywhere he could reach, tightening his arms around her as she melted into him, a satisfied, sated sigh leaving her lips. Dafydd knew he needed to leave before Jack came, but he was utterly incapable of moving; he couldn't leave her, not yet, not when they'd just bound themselves together so tightly.

Sighing contently, Dafydd buried his head in Regina's hair. He could spend a lifetime like this, with her… Or he could die happy, which might be the more likely scenario at this point. Either way, he was a happy man.

"Noo aam quite merrit," she murmured, closing her eyes.

He smiled faintly, before her words resonated with him. Married… Regina had gotten married tonight. Her husband was downstairs, and would be up at any moment. If Jack caught them together, there would be hell to pay. Regina might even lose her crown, and Dafydd wouldn't put it past the new King Regent to reinstate the death penalty, just so he could have the pleasure of removing Dafydd's head from his shoulders.

So, although he could spend the rest of his life in this bed with Regina, to save both their lives he needed to leave. What in either world had he done to deserve so cruel a fate?

"Don't fall asleep, cariad," he said, rubbing her back. "Jack will be here soon."
Regina groaned, burying her face in his chest. "Cannae we rin awa'?"
"Now that, I know you don't mean," he said drily, kissing the top of her head.

Gently, he eased Regina up into a seated position, kissing her lingeringly. He pulled away slowly, gritting his teeth; he could still taste the Lust on her. If it hadn't worn off yet, that meant she'd still be under its effects when Jack…

He growled beneath his breath, cutting off that line of thought. He didn't want to think about Jack putting his hands on his woman, trying to take what belonged to him. But there was nothing else he could do, unless he killed Jack…

Oh Fates, that was tempting. But until Dafydd knew how many people in the castle were in Jack's pocket, he couldn't risk it. More importantly, he absolutely would not take the chance that one of the servants might kill Regina in revenge for Jack's murder before Dafydd could get her out.

They dressed silently, located a change of bed linens, and replaced the bloody fitted sheet with a fresh one, throwing the soiled one into the fire. Once every trace of Dafydd's presence had been erased, they stared at each other, lost. What now? They had each spoken Vows, but they could never be married, not truly. When would they even see each other again?

Dafydd swallowed hard. "No matter what happens," he rasped, "I will always love you."
"An' ye will ne'er leave mah heart," Regina replied.

He nodded, committing her face to memory. Then, silently, he crossed to the balcony and grabbed the rope ladder, rolling it up and placing it back in his rucksack. Stroking Regina's cheek in passing, he pressed his fingers to the secret catch in the wall, opening the doorway to the secret passages that honeycombed the castle. Forcing himself to move, he walked through the doorway, leaving Regina to her fate.

He didn't make it far— he was still within the royal suite, in fact— when he halted, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. He sat numbly, arms dangling off his knees, as he stared into space.

It didn't matter how many steps he took away from her. No matter the physical distance between them, in his mind and his heart he was still in that bedroom with her, locked in a sacred lovers' embrace.

Fates, that had been amazing. She was amazing. Dafydd was no stranger to sex, but it had never been like that— so intense, so completely overwhelming. He hadn't thought it was possible to fall deeper in love with her, but incredibly that was exactly what was happening. Sharing that with her, making love with her… It had been utterly beautiful. Even though she'd been drugged.

What would their lovemaking be like when she wasn't dosed with Tea, he wondered (assuming of course that someday he'd have a chance to be with her again)? He'd like to think that Regina would be just as responsive to him, that she hadn't been so enthusiastic simply because of the Lust. What would it be like when her taste wasn't marred by the aftertang of the Tea, when all of her responses were her own? What would it be like to have as much time as he wanted to please her and torture her, without fear of her husband interrupting them? Would it be just as amazing as this had been… or could it possibly be even better?

Her husband… Dafydd allowed himself the luxury of a furious, snarling growl. He had disliked Jack from the instant he set eyes on the man at the Suitors' Joust, but ever since losing that final match he'd utterly detested him. Knowing that he'd lost Regina to such an unworthy snake had been galling, and it had only gotten worse as Jack showed his true colors.

However, Dafydd's anger then paled in comparison to his fury now.

Jack was going to walk into that bedroom soon. He would intrude on the private universe Dafydd and Regina had created, and he was going to sully the beauty of what they'd shared. Dafydd had Jack's measure, and he knew that the King would take no care with Regina. He wouldn't take the time to learn her body, to coax out her responses. He would go directly for what he wanted, and he would give her nothing in return. The thought that Jack was going to defile his Regina was bad enough; the fact that Jack had the right to do so was an insult that Dafydd would ensure Jack paid dearly for. The idea that Regina would have to endure it… Fates, that she could even wind up pregnant with that snake's child… It was a thought he couldn't bear.

Now what? Regina and Jack were married, and nothing could be done about it. If Jack couldn't be removed, what was the point of the Resistance? What in the world could Dafydd do, with a wife he couldn't claim and an enemy he couldn't defeat? And besides, he thought dully, the Heartbreak had gotten much worse tonight. The bruise was bleeding, which meant at least one of the shards would soon break his skin. Once that happened, he was a goner. Maybe it would be best if he returned to Annwyn to await the end, or maybe Tearmunn.

In the next moment, he mentally slapped himself back into sense. He wasn't dead yet, and Regina was still in danger. For as long as he drew breath, he would fight to protect his wife.

He and Lily knew that Afanen had been feeding Regina Tea. That, at least, they could do something about. Afanen must have gotten her supplies from somewhere; her henchmen could be dealt with. And who knew? Maybe he'd get really lucky, and Jack would be involved. Causing harm to the Queen wouldn't dissolve the marriage, but it might be enough to remove Jack from power as Regent. That much he could do for Regina, before Death came for him.

The thought gave Dafydd pause. Death… He'd known death was a possibility of the Heartbreak, but until tonight it hadn't been a concrete fact. Now it was a certainty. His broken heart was going to kill him, and soon. What would happen to his family when he died? He was his mathair's last living son, and he provided for Briallen and her boys. They would need to be looked after. Annwyn would of course go to Gregan, with dower funds for Gwynyth and Briallen. He would need to settle those arrangements, before the end.

As for him… he would have to decide what to do with his remains. Would he be buried on the Brae in Tearmunn, beside his brother? Would he be buried at Annwyn, or maybe at Isla Affalin, so he could be close to Regina in death?

What did it mean, to die? What would become of him? The Nazari had a belief that warriors' souls were preserved in their weapons. Regina believed that the souls of her loved ones were up in the stars. The old Hightopps maintained that their dead became part of the Song of the Brae. Of all those fates, Dafydd hoped most that he would join the Music. That way, he could still wrap around Regina, and whisper in her ear.

But first things first, he decided, shaking himself free of his morbid thoughts and hoisting himself off the stone floor. He had tasks yet to accomplish before he died. He should focus on that, before he resigned himself to Death.

The baths, Regina had long ago decided, were one of her favorite things about Underland. Unlike in the Uplands, the water always remained the perfect temperature. She could soak in the hot water till morning, if she so chose. And right now, that sounded like a much better option than returning to her nuptial bed.

As she reached for the glass bottle of blue Calm, she paused, cocking her head and holding her breath as she listened. Reassured by the sounds of Jack's snores, she settled back into the tub, tilting back the bottle for a long swallow.

She wondered dully whether her night with Jack would have been easier if Dafydd hadn't come. When she'd lived Above, Lady Ascot had been very sure to impress upon both Jane and Mary the duties of a wife, and how she must be obedient to the (frustratingly unspecified) needs of her husband. Regina had been fully prepared to submit to Jack, to lie back and think of England, as it were. It would have been unpleasant, but she would have endured it.

But Dafydd had miraculously come, and he'd shown her how it could be between man and wife. It had been beautiful, wonderful; she wouldn't deny that. He had made her feel things she hadn't even thought possible.

But that was the danger of knowledge, wasn't it? Once learned, it could never be unlearned. She knew now what lovemaking could be… And she also knew it would never be that way with Jack. Oh, it was painful to know what she would never again experience…

Regina tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling as her thoughts drifted.

Once Dafydd had disappeared into the passage hidden behind the wall, Regina had sunk onto the bed. She'd had no desire to don her heavy, restrictive wedding gown and rejoin the ball. She would just wait for Jack up here, she'd decided. It had already been quite late when she escaped the ballroom, and she didn't know how much time had passed since her departure. Parties didn't last forever, not even in Underland; Jack would have to retire sometime.

And indeed, he had walked through the door not too terribly long thereafter. For a long moment he had just silently observed her, an unreadable expression on his face. She'd fought not to shift beneath his gaze, but truth be told he was making her distinctly uneasy.

"I've heard rumours of you and your lover," he'd said, an undercurrent of warning in his mild voice.

She had stilled; even the blood in her veins had ceased to flow for a moment. What had Jack heard? The same tired old whispers, no doubt. She could defend herself… Except that the rumours were true now, weren't they? She and Dafydd were lovers; she wasn't intact; she had been unfaithful to Jack. She could no longer ignore the whispers, because she and Dafydd had made them true.

Still…

"Wa ur ye concerned?" she had asked cooly. "Ye seem quite content wi' yer bidey-in."

Jack's inhale told her she had landed a blow. And it felt surprisingly good to one-up him. She had been conciliatory and obliging for so long; it felt good to strike back, even if it was a petty point.

For a moment they had stared at each other, and it occurred to Regina that battle lines had just been drawn. The bedroom was a war zone, and they were enemies about to destroy each other.

Jack's eyes had narrowed slightly, and he had drawn a careful breath before replying.

"Afanen was a distraction while I waited for our wedding," he replied. "But we're married now, Regina. I expect you to remain faithful to me. To us. To what our union means for Crims."

She hadn't been convinced, and it must have shown in her face, because Jack stepped forward until he was looming over her.

"Let me be perfectly clear," he'd said, and now the warning was explicit. "I am willing to put my lover aside, but I expect you to do the same. I will have eyes on you. If I suspect you of seeing Dafydd, or trying to contact him, I will have him eliminated."

Regina stared at Jack, the blood in her veins freezing instantly as a Chill shot through all her limbs. He had said… He couldn't possibly mean…

"Ye wooldnae," she breathed.
Jack smiled unpleasantly. "Wouldn't I? I am far more like my mother than I care to admit, Regina. Don't test me."

That silenced her, and she swallowed hard. She couldn't be sure Jack was serious… But she didn't dare test him. She had already lost Dafydd once today; she couldn't risk his life.

"Do we understand each other?" he had asked.
"Ye main swear tae flin' Afanen ower," she had replied hoarsely. "She is tae lae th' palace an' nae return."
"Agreed, my dove. She'll be dismissed first thing in the morning," Jack had said smoothly. "We shall be man and wife, with naught between us."

He had held out his hand, a calculating look in his eyes. Feeling faint, Regina had laid her hand in his, making her deal with the devil.

Jack had smiled, a dark look of triumph in his eyes. "And now that that's settled, I do believe we're meant to consummate our union."

His words had made the Chill that much worse. He had threatened the life of her lover, and now he expected her to meekly submit to him?

But she couldn't cross him. She had promised to honor their union, and that meant submission. She had no doubt that if she set even one toe out of line, she would pay for it with Dafydd's life, and that was the one thing she could never risk. Closing her eyes against her tears, she had reached up to untie the laces of her negligee.

Drawing a deep breath, Regina forcefully cut off that line of thinking. There was no need to torture herself by reliving it; suffice to say that Jack had been satisfied with that one perfunctory rutting, and had fallen asleep immediately thereafter. Once he'd started snoring, Regina had abandoned his bed for the bathtub, and now here she was.

She wished desperately that her Madness would let her black out and be insensible to the world. This marriage would be so much easier if she had no idea what was happening. But alas, she couldn't escape the clarity. She had hung herself, and now she would have to watch herself die.

She sunk down lower in the water as the first tear fell, pressing her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs.

I'm so sorry, Dafydd… ma taavi…

It was one of those unbearably lovely days. Warm sun, the Trees humming in harmony with the Flowers while the wind kept time. Witzend pranced through the tall grass, proudly conscious of the blue ribbon neatly tied around her neck in a bow. She meowed in delight, following in her human's dancing footsteps.

When she caught sight of her mistress, Witzend paused, sitting on her haunches in confusion. Her human was a little girl dressed in frilly, stark white, her red-gold curls restrained in a severe braid. This human, while she shared the curls (unbound now) and the dreamy eyes, was full-grown, garbed in a flowing, one-shouldered gown of amethyst and sapphire. In her hand was a paintbrush, dripping with multiple colors of paint.

"Mistress?" Witzend mewed, feeling vaguely panicked. "Is that you?"
"Of course it is," Regina laughed. "Silly Cat, haven't you been watching me?"
"What are you doing?" Witzend asked, indicating Not Quite Mistress' paintbrush.
"Well, what does it look like?" Regina asked. "I must paint the flowers! There's such an awful lot of them, you see."
"But why do you need to?" Witzend complained. "Why can't we play? Or you could tell me a story!"
"But you know all the stories already, you cheat," Regina said, her voice suddenly chilly as she turned away. "You left me so you could learn all the stories' endings, so what else can I do? You've even changed my story, selfish thing!"

Witzend stared at Regina in horror, but her mistress no longer seemed to realize she was there.

"You went and changed my tapestry, and now I've lost the thread of the pattern," she mumbled, wringing her hands as she paced. "I don't know which bits of the picture are mine or yours, so how can I know who the whole belongs to? I'll not make a stitch more until I know who owns the picture."

The brooding, echoey quiet of the Cave of Contingency was shattered by the sharp, loud, pained yowls of the grief-stricken Cheshire Cat as she jerked awake from the nightmare. She sprinted through the subterranean cavern pell-mell, bashing her head against the walls and stalagmites in a futile attempt to drive the images from her mind.

"Noooo!" she screamed in agony. "What have you done?! It's not supposed to go like this! This isn't how I planned it!"

A DANGEROUS THING, FOR A CHESHIRE CAT TO CARE OVERMUCH ABOUT ITS TOYS, the ageless, sexless, emotionless voice of the Spirit of Underland observed.

Suddenly, the Cheshire flew into midair, as if an invisible hand had lifted her by the scruff. She yelped as the unseen force shook her hard, then plunked her onto the stalagmite that supported the rift in the Veil.

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANTED, CAT, the Spirit replied. YOU WANTED THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE TO BECOME A FIXED POINT, AND SO IT HAS.

"But not like this!" the Cheshire screamed, tears pouring from her overlarge blue eyes. "This path will kill her!"

IT IS YOUR OWN FAULT IF YOU FAILED TO CONSIDER ALL OF THE VARIABLES, the Spirit said. THERE IS NO CHANGING COURSE NOW.

"No," the Cat cried again.

YOU WILL WATCH, the Spirit commanded. YOU WILL BEAR WITNESS TO THE FUTURE YOU HAVE CREATED.

She tried to look away, only to find that the Spirit had frozen her to the spot, forced her eyes open and fixed to the realm beyond the Veil. She tried to close her mind to the dance of Time, but she was helpless, trapped, forced to observe what she had brought to pass.

She watched, and she was broken.

A wild, Mad cackle clawed its way out of her throat and resounded through the silent cave. Yes, she had done all of this. Caused the birth of one, the death of three at least and likely more; completely changed the course of Underland, and destroyed the Old Guard of the past. She had changed the future, and her head reeled with the millions of futures to come.

Her thoughts unraveled, and in the chaos Madness swept in.

After all, the Cat giggled to herself, here we are all a little Mad. Join the Tea Party while you can; oh, what fun is waiting to be had!

Additional Author's Note: I am so, so sorry. (I have the feeling I'm going to be saying that a whole lot before the end.)

There will be a BTP chapter going up (probably in a few days, depending on how quickly Rang can get it back to me). It's an M-rated, shameless PWP scene, detailing what happens during Dafydd and Regina's wedding night. If you choose to skip it, you will miss absolutely no relevant plot details.